Spread My Secret, Shatter Me
by Channel D
Summary: Sometimes it's so hard to keep a secret, even though doing so is one of Gibbs' rules. When Abby finds out an amazing Jimmy Palmer secret -- no, not Michelle -- will the urge to share it outweigh good sense? Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Spread My Secret, Shatter Me**

**by channelD**

_written for:_ the an NFA Fanfic Exchange The prompt I chose was:** Breaking rules is never a smart idea, especially not if it is one of Gibb's rules.  
**_rating:_ K plus  
_characters:_ Abby & Palmer (non-shippy), principally

- - - - -

**Chapter One**

The shattering of the semi-circular lab window as the barrel came flying through showered Abby and Jimmy with glass and also slush from the lawn. _"Oh, my gosh! Oh, my gosh!"_ Abby cried over and over, checking herself for injuries. She didn't _feel_ hurt, but there was blood on her hands, and she could feel dampness on her face.

"Abby! Abby! It's okay. Let's go down to Autopsy and get those cuts attended to." It wasn't often that Autopsy assistant and medical student Jimmy Palmer had an errand that took him to the lab. He had thought himself fortunate earlier that today was one of those prized days, and Abby had even been treating him almost kindly!. But now this had happened...

She was suddenly cognizant again that she wasn't alone. "Palmer! What happened?! What is that barrel doing in my lab?! And, oh gosh; do I look as bad as you??"

Jimmy was startled by that; he hadn't imagined that he might be hurt, too. He touched his face and grimaced briefly when his hands came away with blood. "I think a truck hit that pothole on the street; the one that we've all complained about." He peered out the high window as cold air gushed in through the break. "Yes, the driver at least has a flat. May have broken an axel. And that barrel looks like others on his truck and, um lying on the ground out there."

"What's in them, I wonder?" said Abby, now on the trail of a mystery. "There's no label of contents on this one."

"Isn't there, uh, some kind of law requiring that? Er...I think it's leaking." A trail of colorful, thick liquid was coming out of one side of the barrel.

"Oh," said Abby, and then added with understatement, "That can't be good."

People were coming out of the NCIS building now to see the damage to the truck. They stood in the February cold, chattering to each other, shaking their heads. Better was expected of the Navy in maintaining its roadways, as curious as those words seemed. Jimmy saw Gibbs crouch to examine the fallen barrels, glance at the truck, then glance his way and meet his eyes. Abruptly Gibbs got up and ran out of sight.

He was pounding into the lab within two minutes. "I'd no idea until I saw you two through the window," he said. "Good grief! Both of you, go see Ducky now!"

"_Stop!!"_ Abby yelled. "Gibbs, _don't come any closer!_ We have a spill of an unknown substance! Unless you know what's in those barrels, of course, and then it wouldn't be unknown, would it? I'm babbling, aren't I? I'm babbling because I'm scared, Gibbs."

Gibbs forced himself to remain calm, though he felt anything but that. "All right. Don't be scared. But you both need to get to Decontam immediately. We'll work on identifying this and getting it cleaned up."

"My poor lab," Abby moaned. She left, with a white-faced Jimmy trailing in her wake.

- - - - -

"Got it. Thank you, sir," Ziva hung up the phone. "Gibbs, it _is_ a toxic chemical, according to the company files. They cannot explain why the barrels are unmarked. It seems that they want to blame that on the driver." She frowned.

"How toxic?" asked Gibbs.

"If Abby and Palmer did not get any on their skin, they should be fine."

Gibbs looked dubious. "Give the chemical name to McGee; have him check it out." He leaned back in his chair, deep in thought. _Idiotic, careless driver. The pothole's not his fault, but he should have had the drums secured better..._

- - - - -

After scrub downs, Abby and Jimmy were relieved to hear that they weren't considered to have been exposed to the chemical. Ducky took care of their cuts. "Can I go back to my lab now?" Abby mumbled, looking at the bandages on the palms of her hands.

"I'd recommend that you not do so, Abigail," said Ducky. "Take the rest of the day off, as I've instructed young Palmer to do. Give yourself a chance to heal."

"Besides, your lab isn't fit to work in yet," said Gibbs. "It's still being cleaned up. A glass company should be here shortly to board up the broken window, and then they'll replace the window tomorrow."

Abby nodded, dully, causing Gibbs to lift her chin and meet her eyes. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," she replied, unconvincingly. "I'm fine," she then repeated, making her voice a little stronger. "Can I go now?"

"Sure. See you tomorrow, Abbs." His eyes followed her, concerned.

- - - - -

Abby passed the Decontam area, then turned around and went in. As per usual, NCIS would cover the cleaning costs of clothing deemed not necessary to destroy. However, the turnaround time to retrieving said clothes could run as long as a week. Abby didn't want to wait that long to get back the t-shirt she'd been wearing under her lab coat. She had planned on wearing it again this weekend. It was a dull green shade, a most unusual color for her, but it had such a delightful image of a skull spewing green slime.

She reached for it in the pile of clothes in the hamper, and tugged the green garment to the top of the pile. Grudgingly, it separated from the rest of the clothes. _But...when had it grown so...?_ With a sigh she realized that this was _not_ her t-shirt; it was the trousers of Jimmy's scrubs. The two greens were very close in color.

With a shrug, she was about to toss the trousers back into the hamper when something fell out of the pocket and clinked softly to the floor. _What…?_ It was a necklace, made of beads. Pretty beads; of stones she couldn't entirely identify in this light. Tiny pink pearls here and there; those she recognized. Delicate little silver spacers separated some of the beads.

Abby looked for the clasp, out of habit: when she shopped for jewelry, she had certain types of clasps that she liked, and ones that would put her off from buying the necklace. She didn't believe in fussy things that required ten minutes of fumbling to secure. Life was too short. To her surprise, there was no clasp…the cord ends were simply tied off in knots; one end much longer than the other.

This is a necklace still being made! She knew a little about jewelry making; had flirted with it for awhile in graduate school. After the beads of a necklace were strung, they had to hang for awhile to get the cord to stretch into shape with the beads' weight. Then the clasp could be added.

_Now what in the world would Palmer be doing with a necklace unless… Nah_. Abby started to giggle, and soon was doubled over with laughter. Palmer, a jewelry maker?? That was just so…un-guylike! If Tony ever found out, he'd never stop ribbing him. Assuming that Tony didn't die of shock, or laughter, first. Even McGee would snort and snort until his cheeks looked like a chipmunk's.

_Well, never mind, Palmer; your secret's safe with me,_ Abby grinned, slipping the necklace back into the trousers pocket. Back into the hamper it went, and out came her t-shirt. _I won't tell._ She was laughing as she pulled on her coat and took the elevator up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

When Abby came into her lab the next day, Gibbs was already there, inspecting the results of the clean-up. "I think you're good to go in here, Abbs," he said. "How are you feeling?"

"Great!" she said with a sunny smile. "Fabulous! Fantastic! _Wunderbar! Ausgezeichnet! Preeminente! Exquisitus! Ekuserento!—_ that last one is Japanese, in case you were keeping score."

He smirked. "Glad to hear it. If you want to hang out in the squad room when they come to replace the window, you're welcome to do so. It's pretty cold out there today." He nodded toward one of the remaining windows, where sleet could be heard hitting the glass.

"I might do that. Thanks, Gibbs!" She smiled gleefully; and he went out, bearing his coffee and an uncommon smile in return. But her smile wasn't for him, it was for Palmer's secret, which had been in her mind since yesterday.

Abby didn't consider herself to be sexist or judgmental in any way, but the notion of guys making jewelry...it was too funny for words. Particularly geeky, socially clumsy Palmer. Just when he would seem to redeem himself as an understanding, decent, normal human being, something like this would turn up. Now of course, she could never tell anyone about this...

It was still in her mind a little while later when she ran into Ziva in the ladies' room. "You look like the cat that has slobbered the canary," remarked Ziva.

" 'Swallowed' is the expression. Just ask me why I am grinning. Go ahead, ask." The part of her brain that ruled Sensibility screamed at her to stop, but she ignored it. This was too much fun.

Ziva squared her shoulders, prepared for an over-the-top Abbyism. "Very well. Why are you grinning?"

Abby leaned forward, the grin replaced by a conspiratorial smile. "Someone among us has a secret. A deep, dark secret."

"Well, it is not I, so it must be you. What is your secret?"

"No! No! I mean, among us in the _larger_ sense."

"Someone large who works for NCIS?" Ziva was truly puzzled. Of all the people who worked at this agency, Abby was the hardest for her to understand, sometimes.

"_It's Palmer!"_ Abby exclaimed, waving her hands. She then halted. Naming Palmer hadn't been her intention; that part had just slipped out.

"Oh. Well, he _is_ large, I guess. What is his secret?"

"I'm not sure I should be telling you," said Abby, feeling her conscience starting to kick her mental shins.

"Then why did you bring it up?"

Abby's sense of fun chased the shin-kickers away. "Okay, okay; you wormed it out of me!"

"I...did _what_?"

"Palmer..._makes jewelry!_ Necklaces, anyway. I just discovered this yesterday."

Ziva considered. "As a hobby, yes? I do not think I have ever known a man who did that."

"_Exactly!_ It's just so..."

"Unusual?"

"_Unnatural!_ Don't you think that says a lot about him?"

"He is a man engaging in a woman's hobby?"

"Yes!! It's _hilarious_!! I'm expecting him to start wearing them anytime now!!" Abby couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up from deep down. "Can't you just see it in Autopsy...he's leaning over a body, and the necklace around his neck sways, following gravity...maybe the sparkly stones catch the lights..."

Ziva chuckled in spite of herself. "We should not laugh, perhaps. If he wants to do that, who should care?"

"Aw, now that's not the spirit! We're all friends here...so what if we store up a little information to use against each other, now and then? Like you and Tony teasing McGee? It's harmless fun."

"I suppose you're right..."

"Someday the whole story will come out, anyway. We're just hurrying it along!"

Ziva smiled then. "I must get back to work. Thank you for the news!"

They went their own ways. Abby was glad that she had been able to share the information with someone who would appreciate the absurdity of it all. She didn't give it another thought as she returned to work in a lab with a new window.

- - - - -

Ziva was smiling as she returned to her desk. "What's with you?" asked Tony the Observant. "What are you smiling about?"

"Can a woman not just smile? Perhaps I am happy." she said, her smile undiminished. She glanced at her teammates. In her mind she saw Tony wearing a necklace of black pearls; and McGee, one of lapis lazuli. She doubled over in laughter.

"You must be _really_ happy," Tim stated. "And amused by it."

The light reflected on something on Tim's computer when he turned his head, and for an instant it did look like he was wearing jewelry. "Earrings!" she gasped. _"Earrings!!"_

Gibbs was not around. Tony and Tim converged on Ziva's desk, wearing hopeful grins. "My scuttlebutt alarm system is going off," Tony said. "Dish, dish!"

Ziva smirked. "Palmer is making necklaces. Long ones with shiny spacers that catch the light. And he wears them while he works, hidden under his scrubs!"

The men tittered, guffawed, and howled. "Now you," said Tim to Tony, "Can never, _ever_, come up with an insult to me that will top this!"

"Oh, I do not think of it as an insult to Palmer," Ziva said, wiping the laughter tears from her eyes.

"Well, _I _do," Tony said, nearly choking on his laughter. "The Autopsy Gremlin has written himself a new page in the annals of his improbable life!"

"But why should it matter?" Ziva said as a small sense of fair play ran through her mind, blowing a horn as it went. "Do not men here wear long golden chains, an earring in one ear, lots of rings?"

"That's different," said Tony, without saying why. "But how did you learn this?"

"Abby told me, just now."

"I don't know how Abby knows this," said Tim, "but she's a reliable source. I don't think I'll ever look at Palmer the same way again!"

- - - - -

Jimmy was late coming into work that day after his morning classes; his Metro train died between stations, so it was past 1 o'clock when he arrived in Autopsy. After he'd returned home the previous day, he remembered the unfinished necklace in his pocket, and he'd panicked. Were it not such a long commute (and trains infrequent in the middle of the day), he would have gone back to NCIS for it. The cost of the beads was not insignificant (more than the pearls, actually), and then there was the time he'd spent matching the beads to positions; stringing them, tying knots; stretching the strung necklace...

It would be one of the best he'd ever done. He was proud of it. It would fetch a good price at his cousin Glenna's arts shop. At her suggestion, he would ask a higher price this time than he had been; one more in line with what professional makers did.

He couldn't bear the thought of losing his handiwork to some cleaning machine.

Seeing Ducky rounding a corner, he ducked out of sight_. Where would they have taken our clothing?_ With pain in his chest, fearing that it all had long been spirited away, he looked in small room after small room. Then in the last one, he found a hamper. He dug into it eagerly, pulling out his scrubs, and pawing at the trousers pockets. _Yes! It's still here!_ Intact, unmolested.

And best of all, no one at NCIS knew about it.

- - - - -

_To be continued..._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Ducky turned around the next afternoon when Jimmy entered Autopsy; turned sharply, as if spinning on a dime. "Ah, er, Mr. Palmer. Er…are you feeling quite well enough to return to work? You almost never take a sick day; why not take one now?"

Jimmy looked up in surprise. "I feel fine, Doctor." He had just a few bandages on his hands, and the red cuts on his face weren't as pronounced today.

Grimacing, Ducky turned away. He'd offered Jimmy an out; he couldn't force him to take it. "Read the reports on our Seaman Ferguson, Mr. Palmer. His body was found near the Lincoln Memorial last night. I shall return presently."

- - - - -

"Jethro, if _I_ have heard about this, then you can be assured that 90 per cent of the workers in this building have heard it from the proverbial grape vine! Something must be done!"

Gibbs shrugged. "What do you suggest, Duck? The cat's out of the bag. I can't erase the gossip about Palmer from people's minds."

Ducky looked downcast. "You're right, of course. It's hopeless. Poor Palmer."

"And you had no idea he was…stringing beads, or whatever it is he's doing?"

"None whatsoever. Had I known, I would have advised him against bringing his hobby, if that's what it is, to work as he carelessly did yesterday. I would have feared just such a reaction as this."

"He's just going to have to tough it out," said Gibbs.

- - - - -

The first inkling that Jimmy had that something was wrong came when he opened his locker. The door was sticking for some reason; when it finally opened, out fell batches of pink and yellow balloons, doilies, dried flowers and small, pretty wicker baskets. A very feminine theme, almost like a bridal shower. There were no notes, no messages, no writing of any kind. Puzzled, Jimmy threw it all in the trash barrel and tried to go about his work. But his mind kept turning back to the locker. _Who…and why?_

Then a case came up, and he went with Ducky to retrieve the body of a Marine corporal from the banks of the Potomac River. He hesitated before leaving: the necklace was still in his pocket, for he'd hoped to attach the clasp in private and drop it off at Glenna's shop after work. Since his locker was obviously not a safe place anymore, he had no choice but to carry it with him, secure—he hoped—in the bottom of his coat pocket.

"Hey, Palmer!" Tony greeted him with a grin at the crime scene along the river. "You look, uh…_nice_ today. Yeah, that's it. You look nice."

Jimmy glanced down at his Levis, loafers and jacket with the worn cuffs. His late father had left him some money; enough to put him through medical school, but Jimmy pinched pennies on things like clothing to be cautious. "Uh, thanks, I think."

"My pleasure," Tony smirked. Beside him, Ziva shook her head and laughed.

Now that was puzzling. Gibbs and his team rarely acknowledged Jimmy's existence. He understood that, as not much more than an intern (in the non-medical sense), he ranked lowest. Many people didn't bother to get to know interns; in some occupations, they were there all too briefly.

_I also say stupid things at times, when I get nervous,_ he thought. _Which is a lot of the time._ He reached into his pocket and ever-so-gently fingered the beads for comfort.

"Mr. Palmer," Ducky called. "What do you make of these abrasions?"

_Saved by the bell._ Jimmy studied the body, and made some educated guesses; all but one was deemed right by Ducky. Was it his imagination, or did Ducky seem to be a little effusive with his praise? Usually the doctor didn't mind pointing out his failures, no matter how small. Odd.

Jimmy's glow of success was short-lived, however. When he then remarked on the corpse's earlobe with a hole but no earring in it, Tony and Tim both broke out laughing, to the point that Gibbs had to slap both of them to get them to stop. _What did I say that was so funny?_ Jimmy wondered.

"Finish sweeping the scene!" Gibbs snapped at his agents. "You, too, David!"

"I? What did I—"

"Just do it!" Gibbs turned his glare on Jimmy, then sighed, shook his head, and turned away. "Duck," he said over his shoulder, "you can take the Marine back to NCIS anytime you want to."

"No time like the present," Ducky said quickly. "Will you load our corporal into the van, Mr. Palmer? I don't think we need to hang around in the cold any longer."

"Yes, Doctor." Jimmy couldn't put his finger on what was amiss, but it certainly made him feel uncomfortable.

- - - - -

He happened to run into Abby soon after his return to NCIS, before he'd had a chance to hang up his coat. She seemed to be loitering near Autopsy. "Oh. Palmer," she said, and too late, put a hand to her face to try to hide a smile. "Did you, ah…"

"Did I what, Abby?"

"Nothing! You didn't anything! I'm pretty sure you didn't. I would know. _We_ would know." Abby started backing up into the elevator, blushing. Then just at the elevator door, she stopped and called, with a little more courage, "Palmer? If you ever had anything you wanted to share; anything you wanted to get off your chest, you know you could tell me, right? 'Cause I'm like the _queen_ of non-judgmental."

He was nonplussed. "Okay…I'll remember that," he said, not being able to think of anything else appropriate. His hand went to his pocket briefly, before he stopped and returned it to his side.

"Anything. Any little thing at all. Anything that's on your mind. Anything that's troubling you. Any deep, dark…or shiny…secrets that you're keeping…"

"Secrets? I, uh, I don't have any secrets." Now he was backing up. _She couldn't possibly know…_

"There is at least one that you no longer have."

Jimmy jumped at the sound of the voice behind him. _Ziva!_ As he turned to face her, Abby burst out laughing, and he soon saw why. Ziva had picked his pocket, and was triumphantly holding up his unfinished necklace.

They would have expected him to snatch it back (or _try_ to; Ziva was quick), or demand its return. They didn't expect his crushed look, or his fleeing the site for the bowels of Autopsy. That was not how the game was played.

- - - - -

Ducky was having a one-sided talk with the dead Marine when Jimmy came in. "Excuse me, Dr. Mallard. I'm not feeling well after all," Jimmy interrupted. "I'm going home. Right now."

The old doctor eyed him. "You appear flushed, Mr. Palmer. Of course you can go. Would you like me to have a look at you before you leave?"

"No—no thanks, Doctor. I'll be all right. I just want to go."

"Feel better, Mr. Palmer." Ducky returned to his work.

- - - - -

Jimmy waited until he was safely inside his apartment before he let the tears flow. He poured himself a glass of red wine; something that always calmed him. After half an hour or so, he sat down at his computer and logged onto his email.

_**Dear Dr. Mallard**,_ he typed.

_**Something has come up and I can no longer work at NCIS. I therefore tender my resignation, effective immediately.**_

_**Sincerely,**_

_**James Palmer**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Gibbs surveyed the three agents plus Abby, all of whom stood before him in Jenny's office. At least they looked _somewhat_ contrite. He glared at them. Jenny stood beside him at her desk, looking, if possible, even more baleful than he did.

"We didn't mean anything by it," Tim volunteered. "It was a joke that…got out of hand."

"A _joke?"_ Jenny repeated. "Then why wasn't Jimmy Palmer laughing when he left?!"

"Uh, it wasn't that kind of joke, exactly," Tim admitted, uncomfortably.

"Are you aware that it so distressed Palmer that he's quit his job?" Gibbs growled.

"He _quit?"_ Ziva gasped.

"There must be a mistake," Tony murmured. "We didn't intend—"

"Ducky's on his way to Palmer's apartment now, to see if he can reason with him," said Jenny.

"What were you_ thinking?!"_ said Gibbs to them. "You, DiNozzo. You'll be wanting your own, permanent team soon enough. Is this the way you expect to manage people??"

"Um, no, boss…"

"David. You come from a part of the world where people have been warring for centuries. I would have expected you to be more sensitive to personal differences."

Ziva was silent, but looked embarrassed.

"And McGee. You of all people I would have expected to empathize with someone of many talents who has struggled to fit in, socially."

Tim squirmed. "Sorry, boss."

"I'm not the one you should be saying sorry to. We'll see if you get that chance. Now, Abby…as I understand it, this all started with you? You were the one to discover the necklace?"

She nodded, mutely. He dismissed the others, and when the door closed, Jenny ordered her to sit.

"I'm in big trouble, aren't I?" Abby said, feebly.

"You know my rules, Abbs," Gibbs said tiredly. "Rule number four?"

"Never let suspects carry a knife?" she said tiredly, surprised at how much energy this silly affair had sapped from her.

"_Abby!"_

" 'If you have a secret, the best thing is to keep it to yourself. The second-best is to tell one other person if you must. There is no third-best.' " Abby sulked.

"Right. When you discovered the necklace in Palmer's scrubs pocket, you should have kept this knowledge to yourself. You also could have asked Palmer about it, and maybe prevented this blow-up."

"But the only person I told was Ziva. _She_ could have kept it to herself."

Gibbs slammed his fist on Jenny's desk. "What are you; 7 years old??"

Abby flinched. "Sorry."

To Gibbs and Jenny, she did look sorry, though it wasn't clear for what. "All right, Abby. Get back to work," said Jenny, studying her desk.

"Am I—going to face disciplinary action?"

"That largely depends on what happens with Palmer," Jenny said.

Abby left, not meeting their eyes.

Jenny and Gibbs sighed when she had gone. Jenny pulled the necklace from a drawer. "All this over jewelry. A beautiful piece of jewelry."

"I don't know anything about it," Gibbs shrugged. "I've only ever given silver or gold. Are beads really that special?"

"To people who like them, yes. The variations are endless. The beads, or stones, are innumerable, and made of so many different materials…if he designed this, Palmer really does have a talent."

- - - - -

A few hours later, Gibbs and Jenny regathered the guilty foursome in Jenny's office. And let them sit this time. Ducky was there now, along with Jimmy (who looked embarrassed and met no one's eyes), and a 30-ish woman Ducky introduced as Jimmy's cousin Glenna.

Glenna Palmer, a cheerful-looking woman, smiled at the group. "Do you want me to talk, Jimmy?" she asked from her seat beside him.

"Why don't you, Glenna?" said Ducky when Jimmy didn't answer. "It'll start things off."

"Very well," she said. "I run a shop in Alexandria that I took over from my mother when she died. _Wondrous Things_, it's called. It specializes in hand-crafted home goods, clothing, art pieces, and jewelry. Our family has always been big on handicrafts and art.

"Jimmy loves things that go together, like beads. When he was small, he liked to play with my mother's collection of beads—she had thousands of beads—and line them up in beautiful rows. We realized early on that he had an eye for color, texture, design, and for the fire itself inside the translucent beads. I taught him how to make necklaces, bracelets and earrings. In our family, there are no male and female tasks," she said with emphasis. "Jimmy's mother got a kick out of designing boxer shorts with funny sayings for men. My dad designed and sewed the sweetest throw pillows you ever saw—almost all of which are bought by women. We never, ever, considered that anyone might think Jimmy's jewelry-making was a peculiar pastime for a man."

"Is it—is it really good, that necklace that he made?" asked Tim. "I never even got a chance to see it."

Jenny handed it to him. "I think it's _gorgeous_," she said.

Tim turned it over in his hands. "The green in the beads…mixed with the other colors. And are those pearls? Wow. My mom would like this. This green matches her eyes."

Glenna smiled. "It can be yours to give her, for 320 dollars, plus tax."

Tony's eyes bulged. "Your jewelry's worth that much, Palmer?"

"It is indeed," said Glenna. "Jimmy's work is starting to get a following." She passed the necklace around, along with two other already finished pieces.

Jenny held onto one accented with topaz stones and would not pass it along. "How much is this?" she asked. "This is amazing. Whatever it is, I want it!"

"That one is 280 dollars," said Glenna promptly.

"Uh, there are matching earrings, Director," Jimmy said shyly. "70 dollars."

"I'll take those, too," said Jenny.

The meeting broke up, with Tim and Tony shaking Jimmy's hand, and Ziva asking if he could make her a necklace with amber. Only Abby hung back.

When all had filed out, Abby caught up to Jimmy. "Palmer? Uh, Jimmy? I just wanted to say…I'm sorry."

His eyes looked cold behind his glasses. "Sorry for what? Spreading a rumor about me? Making fun of my hobby? My manhood? Not being able to keep a secret? Not coming to me first if you had a concern about me? Or were you having too much fun at nerdy Palmer's expense?"

"I—I—"

"Come see me if you ever figure it out."

"So—you're not quitting?" she called after him.

"No. Glenna said if I quit, I would be giving in to the ridicule. I won't let you shape my life, Abby." He headed for the elevator.

_The necklaces are beautiful,_ Abby reflected. _But I put my big foot in my mouth, as I tend to do. How can I make this right?_

- - - - -

An hour later, toward the very end of the work day, Abby appeared in Autopsy, looking nervous. Ducky was typing on a computer, and Jimmy was cleaning the instruments. "Uh, Jimmy? Can I see you for a moment? Alone?"

Ducky's glance at her was cool. "Go ahead, Mr. Palmer. I'll finish up with the instruments," he said.

"Thank you, Doctor," Jimmy said, but his own look at Abby was unfriendly. He motioned her back out to the hallway, and followed her there.

"You said to find you if I figured it out," she said, and felt like she was looking up to him, even though in her heels, they were about the same height. "And I did, I think. So here I am."

"And what did you figure out?"

She blushed. "Well, first, I need to give you this." She handed him a piece of paper.

"** 'Abby's Secrets'**??" he read, then angry, put it down. "No way."

"No! No! Read it! I want you to! That's the point! Read!"

Jimmy sighed and started to read it out-loud.

_**This is a list of Abby's secrets. It may not be all-inclusive, but this is what I could come up with on short notice. These aren't Mother-Of-All-Secrets, just little ones. Little but still important.**_

_**I don't always look both ways before crossing a street. Takes too much time, and the sun is usually in my eyes in one direction. Yes, I like taking risks; why do you ask?**_

_**I don't watch traffic lights when I walk across the street. I watch cars. No one was ever run over by a traffic light.**_

_**When I go to McDonald's, I take an extra straw and an extra napkin. Because you never know.**_

_**When I buy a newspaper from a coin-operated box, I often put in an extra quarter. The person who fills the box probably needs the money more than I do.**_

_**Despite the Director's directive, I do feed the pigeons at the front entrance. Just in the off hours when no one sees me.**_

_**I also spring the mouse traps whenever Maintenance puts them down. Traps are a horrible punishment for cute little creatures.**_

_**I was the one who drew the moustache on the poster of the fat lady when the Employee Activity Association was advertising that opera they'd bought tickets for. Remember, the Director was mad for a solid week; sheesh**_.

_**But it was Tony who drew her—whoops, this is supposed to be my secrets. Ahem.**_

_**I offered Cynthia 5 to put little whoopee cushions under the sofa cushions the last time the CIA came to see the Director. Cynthia wouldn't take my money, and I don't know if she went through with the gag either. I wish I'd been there.**_

Jimmy was by now howling. "I—I can't read any more," he choked. "Whether these are true or not, Abby, you have a real flair for humor."

"Thank you," she said. "But you must read on."

He wiped the tears from his eyes and resumed reading aloud.

_**Once, when Tony was bugging me about my Caf-Pows, I made a fake one, just the right color, out of a bunch of unpleasant-tasting things, and then got him to try it. He didn't bug me about it again for months.**_

_**I once yawned hugely during one of Ducky's stories, to which I had not been paying attention. And Tony told me later it was about New Orleans, my home town! Ducky looked so hurt, but I didn't know what to say.**_

_**I once left a business card on Ziva's desk for a 12-step assassin-recovery program. Something I made up. I thought it was funny, but she only looked…stressed when she read it.**_

_**Tim likes me so much. I don't know why; he treats me much nicer than I treat him. I should be thanking him every day for being there for me. But I don't.**_

_**I once moved Tim's Slinky from desk to desk around the squad room over the course of a month. He'd come in in the morning, find his Slinky gone, and blame Tony. After a while I think Tony even started to believe he was doing it. But it was me. I even left postcards on Tim's desk from the places the Slinky was supposedly visiting. Why I play such tricks, I don't know.**_

It was the end of the list. Jimmy looked at her gravely. "You really don't know?"

"I do now," Abby said deliberately. "It only now came to me. I do these secret things because of the power it gives me over my, well, victim. It's—it's like a drug, I guess. When I get the temptation to know something about someone, or to do something to them, I can't help myself."

"I think you can, if you really want to," Jimmy said slowly. "But why are you telling me all this?"

"Because if _you_ know it, it lessens the power _I_ have, and transfers it to _you_. That's what knowing a secret does. You can tell anyone, or even everyone, about this. It would be what I deserve, after what I did to you. Gibbs was right. Only trouble comes from spreading secrets. But I do need to atone for this."

He then smiled, tentatively. "Knowing a secret and spreading it are different things. I wouldn't want to spread your secrets, Abby. It's not in me to do that."

"No, I suppose it's not," she said. "You're a good person, Jimmy Palmer."

Jimmy looked away, embarrassed. "Nah, not really. But I'm glad you told me your secrets, Abby. Now I feel I know you better."

"I don't expect you to forgive me right away. Maybe never. I, uh, really did like your necklaces, though. Do you, uh, suppose you could make me one? Of tanzanite?"

"Tanzanite's pretty expensive. It's still rare, and is a very hot gemstone right now."

"I know, I know, but it's _so_ beautiful! All I want is like a single stone set in a simple necklace of black stones or black beads."

"I'll price it out, and give you a quote."

"Thanks, Jimmy!!" On impulse, she kissed his cheek and ran out.

He went back into the lab, rereading the list as he walked, and chuckled. _It's a good thing Mom raised me to keep secrets_, he thought. _Otherwise Abby would be forever living this down._

- - - - -

Tim was in her lab when Abby came in. He looked furtive. "Uh, Abby? Something's come up, and—well, can you keep a secret?"

"Of course, Timmy," she said, squashing him in a hug. "You know me! Old-closed-lips Abby!"

- END -


End file.
